


Sufficient

by atheilen



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Deaged Character, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Tropes, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheilen/pseuds/atheilen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Cala came out to the outer chamber and the door was shut behind them, Deret rounded on him. “This is thy fault,” he barked, knowing it for truth.</p><p>“My fault? What makes thee think—“</p><p>“I know thee, fool of a maza! I may not know how, or why, but I know this is thy doing, and I know that thou must fix it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sufficient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dira Sudis (dsudis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/gifts).



> I hope you like this unrepentant crack, Dira! I read your letter and saw you liked deaged characters, and the idea of wee!Maia latched on to me and would not let go. Really I just leaped at the chance to write Beshelar as Maia's surrogate dad. Sorry I couldn't get it done in time for the main collection, but better late than never.

Deret heard the scream first. A high-pitched, horrid wail that chilled him to the bone. His first thought was that the Empress Csethiro was somehow in danger, but then he remembered she had not chosen to join her husband that night, her pregnancy being too far advanced for her to share a bed comfortably. He drew his sword and crashed through the door to the Emperor’s bedchamber, where Cala was staring at the great bed, whitefaced.

The Emperor was gone.

In his place lay a small boy, goblin-dark with wide grey eyes, which were limpid with tears. He had wedged himself into the smallest corner of the bed he could find and was curled in the fetal position, shaking.

“Who is’t? Where am I? Where is my cousin?” The boy’s voice was hardly a squeak.

A dreadful expression suddenly crossed Cala’s face. “Your—Your…Grace?” he said tentatively.

“My name’s Maia. Who are _you?”_ The second-person formal had nothing to do with manners, and everything to do with fear. Slowly, Deret sheathed his sword. He may have no idea what was going on, but he knew enough to know it wouldn’t help.

It was Cala who spoke, gentler than Deret could have managed. “Thou’rt safe, Maia. We are thy friends. Thou dost not remember, is all.”

Deret’s stomach began to drop. He had a feeling that Cala knew more than he did, and when Cala thought he knew what was going on, that always betokened disaster. While the maza soothed the child, Deret ran out of the room and roused their relief, who knew better than to ask questions. Then he stood outside the Emperor’s chamber.

“Cala Athmaza,” he said, proud of how level his voice was. “A word, if you please.”

As soon as Cala came out to the outer chamber and the door was shut behind them, Deret rounded on him. “This is _thy_ fault,” he barked, knowing it for truth.

“ _My_ fault? What makes thee think—“

“I _know_ thee, fool of a maza! I may not know how, or why, but I know this is thy doing, and I know that thou must fix it.”

Cala swallowed. He looked like he was going to be ill. Deret wisely stepped back so that he was out of range. When Cala’s voice came out, it was barely a rasp. “Do you remember the last time the Empress stayed with the Emperor at night?”

“Yes.” They had both kept their mouths shut about it, as was their duty as nohecharei, but Deret could not help his pity for the Emperor. _I know not how to be a father,_ he had confided to his wife. _I have had no example. What if I do not love the child? What if I can’t?_

Deret himself thought that unlikely, but it was not his place to say so.

“Well, afterward, I…I prayed. To Cstheio.”

“And what, precisely, didst thou pray?” Deret snarled.

“I prayed that…that he should know himself beloved. That he need not torment himself thus.”

“I see.” He paused, took a deep breath. “Think of something loving to do, then.”

Cala stared. “Excuse me?”

“Obviously, Cstheio has seen fit to grant your wish. I want my Emperor back as soon as possible. Therefore, we must all work together to ensure that he is loved.”

Cala shook his head. “Sometimes thou dost amaze me, thou knowest.”

Deret didn’t see anything amazing in what he had just said. It was only logical.

*

They told him he had hit his head, that he had been brought to the court weeks before by his father and did not remember. They kept him to his household and pretended he was sick, and the Lord Chancellor and the Empress ran the government behind the scenes.

It could not last. Deret knew it could not. Even after a day, there were rumblings. Soon the rumblings would turn to whispers, and the whispers to something worse. Deret had nightmares about conspirators storming the Alcethmeret, tearing poor Maia from his bed and slitting his throat.

Maia. He could not think of him as the Emperor, not now. Of course, there were certain commonalities, not all of which Deret appreciated. The first thing he had done after getting his bearings was to ask after his blasted cousin.

“Thou wilt never see him again,” Deret said. “Because if he comes near thee, I will kill him.” He couldn’t bring himself to use the second-person formal, either. He justified it to himself by saying it would only make Maia more frightened.

“Setheris wasn’t that bad,” Maia said in what he thought was a reasonable tone of voice. “I think he was sad, and missed his wife. And he only hit me because I provoked him. So thou see’st, Beshelar, it was my fault.”

“It was _not_ thy fault,” Deret snapped, to cover the sound of his heart breaking. “I would kill anyone who tried to hurt thee.” That, at least, was his oath.

Maia stared at him, and it was so much the penetrating stare of the adult emperor that Deret had to stop himself from taking a step back. “Thou dost not like me much, dost thou?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Your Grace,” said Deret. There were so many things he could say. _It is not my place to approve or disapprove. I am here only to serve._ He swallowed. “I care very much for thee, Maia. I am proud to be thy companion.” _Say it. Say thou dost love him._ It was even true. But his throat closed when he tried.

“But thou dost not approve of me.” It was not a question.

How could he explain it to this child? _I fear for thee. I fear that thou wilt give so much of thyself and they will devour it all, and leave nothing of thee._ “Thou think’st too little of thyself,” he said gruffly.

“Oh,” said Maia. “But why would I need to, when I have thee to do it for me?” No barb in the question, only a child’s trust.

“Point,” Deret admitted.

*

“Come on,” Deret said. “I know thou can’st.”

It turned out that a nine-year-old boy took even less kindly to being cooped up in the Alcethmeret than did a nineteen-year-old emperor. Maia’s energy was boundless, and they had to do something. So Deret suggested they reintroduce Maia to his horse.

“But she’s so big,” Maia said, eyes wide. “I don’t think I’m brave enough, Beshelar.”

“Thou’rt the bravest person I know,” Deret said truthfully. “What if I ride with thee the first time?”

“Would’st thou?”

So Deret mounted Velvet with Maia in front of him. He kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders, could almost feel the nervous flutter of his heart.

The nervousness soon turned to exhilaration as Maia got used to the horse, and the horse to him.

“Can we go faster, Beshelar? Can we? I know thou would’st never let me fall.”

“No,” Deret agreed. “I would not.” And he kicked the horse into a brisk trot.

After, he lifted Maia off the horse, but found that he wanted to keep his hand on his shoulder. Maia did not protest. But he looked up at Deret as if he were waiting for something. Deret had no idea what.

Then he spoke, tremulous. “Did I do it right, Beshelar?”

“Yes,” Beshelar said. “Thou wert very brave. I am very proud of thee.”

Maia’s smile was like the sun peeking out after a storm. “Really?”

“Truly. ‘Twas well done, Maia.”

As they walked back, Cala accosted him. “I am proud of thee too,” he murmured.

“Shut up,” said Deret, but he was pleased all the same.

Maia, though, could not read him, for he flinched. “I wish you wouldn’t fight,” he said. “I would not want you to be unhappy. I know you would rather guard somebody important, Beshelar, but that’s no reason to be cruel to Cala. What if you fight so much you leave, and then I’ll…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. He did not have to. _I’ll be alone again._

Cala glared at Deret. “Beshelar was just being grouchy. It’s his way of expressing affection. It means we’re friends.”

“We would never leave, Sere…Your Grace,” Deret chimed in. “We wouldn’t want to. To both of us, _thou_ art the most important.”

“Why?” asked Maia. “I am not anything special, and my father the emperor loves me not.”

 _The emperor thy father was a fool,_ thought Deret. “Because thou’rt _thee,_ foolish boy. Thou art perfectly sufficient in thyself. _I_ would not want thee to be anything else.” _One day I will make thee believe that._

“Indeed,” said Cala. “We love thee.” He used the plural, not formal; including Deret. Deret was ashamed that he could not say the words, but was glad Cala could.

Deret carried Maia on his shoulders back to the Alcethmeret.

*

The emperor woke again in the middle of the night. He was himself once more, and Deret could not repress a pang of grief at that. He did not scream, this time, but only took several deep breaths. “We were…indisposed.”

“Yes, Serenity,” said Deret.

“How does the realm?”

“Lord Berenar and Csethiro Zhasan have been running things quite well in your absence, Serenity, with Mer Aisava’s help, of course.”

“Indeed. We are nearly redundant. But not quite.” Deret was sure he wasn’t imagining the trace of bitterness in Edrehasivar’s voice.

“Never that, Serenity.”

“Beshelar,” he said, suddenly intent. “You did take care of us while we were indisposed. We thank you.”

 _It is our job, Serenity._ But he realized he did not need to miss Maia. Maia was there, right now. “It was my pleasure.”

“We find that hard to believe, though we know you will scold us if we say so.”

Deret smiled. “It’s true, Serenity. We would. Now, we know your household will rejoice to see you restored to yourself, but may we suggest you sleep for a few hours first? We will stay here, and Cala can tell people what they need to know.”

“We see that our restoration has not cured you of your tendency to fuss.”

“Nor will it.” And he dared to draw the covers up over Maia.

He waited until Maia’s breathing slowed, and whispered what he could not say before and now never would get the chance to say again. “I love thee, Maia. I am sorry I could not say it before.”

His emperor smiled. “But thou did’st,” he whispered, and Beshelar knew he wasn’t asleep at all. “Thou dost, each day. Thou, too, art sufficient unto thyself, my dear Beshelar.”

Deret blinked against something he hoped desperately was not tears. He knew they would never speak of this again.

He knew they did not have to.


End file.
